The Hot Summer Of Mariupol. Chapter 12
In the morning, when the freshness of the night was still pleasantly cooling his face, Andrey sat on a bench at the terminal, waiting for the commander to leave. The head of security, the cheerful, strong captain Sasha from the “Mustangs”, offered to take a seat in the car, but Andrey refused.
- I'll have plenty of time for sitting. I'm hanging around in this box all day.
- Ok, - said Sasha. - Then I’ll let you know when Ascetic comes out and you come to the parking lot.
The first early birds from “Dnepr” flocked to the street. Some went for a smoke, some went for a run. And someone went out with a cup of coffee to read the news on a tablet.
- Good morning, Ivanovich! – Misha the hacker greeted Andrey. -Where are you going, such a military man?
- With the commander. We’ll take a ride around the sector, - Andrey suppressed a yawn. - Why did you jump up so early? It's only 6 am. I thought hackers worked at night and then slept until noon.
- Well, we are also leaving now, - Misha took a sip of coffee from a huge mug. – The guests have arrived on safari, we will accompany them.
- What kind of safari? – Andrey asked lazily, watching as two “Dnepr” fighters threshed with full strength a punch-bag made from an ordinary bag.
- Our sponsors are coming from Dnepropetrovsk. The command is setting up a safari near Marinka for them, - Misha explained volubly.
- Who is the safari for? Hunting is prohibited in the Donetsk region, - Andrey still stared at his interlocutor, not understanding.
- The separatists, of course! - Misha laughed. - They're all hunters. Their guns cost several tens of thousands of dollars. So they come here to hunt people. At the same time, they throw all sorts of goodies at us. Last time they gave us a cool night vision device. This time they promised to bring shoes. It's a penny for them, but it's good for the battalion. And they all took the sniper course at our base. Now they are using it in a real situation.
- Ah, well, if so, then, of course. It’s the right thing, - Andrey slowly muttered through his teeth, digesting the information.
“No shit! This is how it turns out - serious guys are already bored with just getting thrills in a casino or while hunting. They want to hunt people! Damn, what kind of animals are these?! Although animals are better - they don’t kill for pleasure...”
With gloomy thoughts, Andrey wandered to the parking lot. The guards were already loading there. The head of sector intelligence, Lieutenant Colonel Sergei from the National Guard command, sang cheerfully:
- The morning greets us with coolness! Darling, why aren’t you happy? – and, seeing Andrey’s gloomy face, he switched to a serious tone. - What happened, Ivanovich? Why are you so gloomy this morning? Don't you want to go?
- Everything is fine. Never mind, - Shevchenko waved him off. – Is “Ascetic” coming soon?
- He's already coming out. So let's load up. You are with us, in Amarok. The security in the Cougar will follow behind.
15 minutes later, after the traditional obscenities performed by Rudnitsky against his subordinates, who sleep for a long time and for whom he, a whole general, must wait in the morning, the small column set off. They had to go beyond Amvrosievka, where the remains of sector “D”, which had emerged from the Izvarin cauldron, were located in the fields...
The further they moved towards Saur-Mogila, the more clear the breath of war became. They came across civilian transport less and less often. More and more abandoned huts could be seen around. Increasingly, clear traces of equipment parking were seen in the groves, which were masked by felled trees - the bright green foliage instantly turned yellow and shriveled under the southern sun.
The intelligence chief looked up from the map:
- Well, it looks like we should be at our destination in a couple of kilometers.
- “Looks like!” - “Ascetic” mimicked him. -Are you a scout or not?
- But, comrade general, you yourself know what the connection is like. You can't really hear anything. But they don’t want to use mobile phones.
– They know better now, - Rudnitsky sighed bitterly. - They say that based on mobile phone signals, our guys were hit with artillery many times. Now many people have a taboo about using phones.
Andrey rode in silence, carefully peering at the landscape flashing outside the window. It was no secret to him that they were approaching a real war zone. Therefore, he felt very insecure in a passenger car, even one as sophisticated as the Amarok. But what seemed cool in the rear of Mariupol, here in the front-line zone, became stupid show-offs.
- Why didn’t we take two Cougars? – he turned to “Ascetic”, following with his gaze the obviously burnt-out army KrAZ dumped in a ditch.
- What, are you scared? – he smiled.
– I’m a bit uneasy. I feel like I’m in a bathhouse – naked and defenseless.
– I understand. I’m like that myself, - “Ascetic” became serious. – The second one is not running. Overall, it's a shitty car. In the city it’ll do. And as soon as it leaves the asphalt, that’s it, consider it gone.
- Oh, there are our warriors ahead. Now we’ll ask for directions, - the scout joyfully exclaimed from the front seat.
- What if it’s not ours? - Andrey muttered.
- Well, they have our flag, everything is fine, - Sergei reassured.
Their Amarok stopped near an infantry fighting vehicle that was parked with a missing track on the left side. It was difficult to imagine a wilder combination of vehicles - a snow-white, executive SUV and a broken, dirty combat vehicle...
A soldier was smoking melancholically on the armor. His uniform was so dirty that it was impossible to see the camouflage spots on it. The headset pushed to the back of his head revealed a strip of white forehead. Or rather, it was not white - just a cleaner part of his face, black from soot and dirt.
- Soldier, where is the boss? - Andrey, sitting next to the commander, shouted to him through the open window.
- Drive straight along the tree line. When you reach the captain, turn left. There, about 200 meters away, you’ll see him, - the fighter answered calmly, without getting up or even taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
- Reach what captain? – Andrey began to get irritated.
- You'll see. Don’t fret, you won’t miss him, - the soldier spat out his cigarette butt and reached inside the BMP.
- Did you understand anything? – Rudnitsky asked in his usual bass voice.
- No, - Andrey shook his head. - Let's go straight for now.
He noticed that Rudnitsky, who was intolerant of violations of the regulations, did not even make an attempt to reprimand the soldier for inappropriate behavior. “This is not good...” thought Andrey and looked around. The escort cougar drove slightly behind due to the dust. At that moment, their Amarok braked sharply, and Andrey hit the headrest of the front seat with his helmet.
- Look, Comrade General, - the driver mumbled in a shrunken voice.
Ahead, at the junction of two tree lines, a part of a man’s body was hanging on a power line... The body had no legs. Apparently, the explosion tore the man into two parts and threw the upper one onto the wires.
- Let’s go forward slowly, - Rudnitsky ordered the driver in a whisper for some reason.
Slowly the car crawled along the dirt road.
- Fuck! So much for the captain... - Andrey burst out. The remains of a burnt uniform were visible on the body. Moreover, the right side with the shoulder was perfectly preserved, and a shoulder strap with four stars was clearly visible on it. The dead man’s head was also intact, and they could clearly see the snow-white grin of his teeth and his blond hair, which was merrily tossed by the breeze. Sitting on the remains, shifting from paw to paw, was a hefty black raven.
– Fucking hell! Some road sign that is..., - Rudnitsky swore. - What happened? Let's go left, as that idiot said!
- Is the bird eating him? – Sergei said in a choked voice.
- I don't even want to know. - Rudnitsky snapped. - Go!
The driver accelerated, and from the sharp sound the raven took off heavily, bursting out in a hoarse cawing after the cars.
Through the open windows there was a noticeable smell of a sweetish corpse stench...
The vehicles of their small caravan turned left and moved along the next grove towards the location of the group of Ukrainian troops that had emerged from the Izvarin cauldron.
The power line wires, sagging under the weight of the body, touched the tops of the trees, where the bright greenery was already giving way to burnt-out foliage - in the Azov region, the sun kills vegetation quickly... But it was killed even faster by people who left traces of their activities in the form of craters, torn out by explosions of trees, cut by fragments of trunks and fields, plowed up by the track of tanks and BMPs...
After 200 meters, as the fighter promised, their road was blocked by a makeshift barrier, at which several military men stood. All in dirty uniforms, but for a change – with clean faces.
- At least they found clean people for the checkpoint, - muttered the intelligence chief. - But all the same - they are some kind of ragamuffins...
- Enough talk, Rudnitsky interrupted him. - Don't wag your tongue. We are guests here, and they just broke out of encirclement yesterday.
They weren’t checked at the checkpoint for long. The senior post officer, introducing himself as Sergeant of the 30th Mechanized Brigade Gontarev, showed where the command’s vehicles were located and opened the barrier.
- So, Sergey, you are with me. Let's go to the management. "Bulat", are you with us? – Rudnitsky climbed out of the jeep heavily.
- I think I’ll find my people first and chat. Then I’ll come over, - Andrey suggested, throwing the assault rifle behind his back.
The small camp was located in a green area at the junction of two groves, where the trees formed something like a small thicket. These trees were mercilessly cut down from all sides by the military, who were preparing places for parking equipment, ramps for dugouts, and simply for firewood. The small grove was filled with the noise of running engines, the clatter of axes, and the clanging of metal parts - mechanics and technicians were feverishly trying to restore as many combat vehicles as possible.
Andrey tried to find out from the officers he met where he could find military counterintelligence officers. However, everyone just waved him off, and one simply angrily asked: “What kind of counterintelligence officers do you need? Those who screwed up with the commander on the first day and abandoned the entire group?”
However, using logic and knowledge of the principles of work of military, Andrey moved towards the command vehicles. And then luck smiled at him - one lieutenant pointed his finger at the dugout, the entrance to which was covered with a raincoat.
- The special officer lives there. Only no one had seen him since the evening.
- Why are you all staying in dugouts? – Andrey asked the lieutenant, already going down the earthen steps.
- Those who lived in tents have been feeding worms for a long time, - the lieutenant said indifferently. - We were heavily hit here just yesterday. If you want to live, dig deeper.
Andrey knocked on the wood of the formwork. He did not hear any answer, so he decided not to wait for permission - he threw back his raincoat and, bending down due to the low ceiling, stepped into the dugout.
A terrible mixture of fumes, the smell of an unwashed body and urine hit his face. Looking closely in the gloom reigning in the dugout, Andrey saw crudely built bunks made of unsanded logs, on which a man in a crumpled military uniform was lying on a torn sleeping bag. Tangled dirty hair, days-long stubble, dirty hands, and trousers soaked from his own urine completed the picture. The man was in a state of severe alcoholic intoxication. Andrey took a step in shock and came across an aluminum 10-liter canister lying on the trampled earthen floor. The canister responded with a dull bubbling sound, judging by which it was at least half-empty...
Feeling a vomiting spasm rising in his throat, Andrey looked around in the dugout. There was a backpack lying on the ground next to the bunk, under which Andrey saw an assault rifle. He picked it up, blew off the dirt and then saw an officer’s case in the side pocket of the backpack.
In the case there was an identity card of an SBU employee made out to Lieutenant Colonel Ilya Sergeevich Tkachenko, the head of the sector, as well as travel documents for the same employee. It followed from them that an employee of the Main Directorate of the Military Commissariat of the DKR was sent to sector “D” of the ATO two weeks ago...
With surprise Andrey was looking at the documents, which were falling out of the case in a stack - dirty, stained by greasy fingers. In front of him were lists of personnel of military units, deciphering the call signs of the leadership and divisions of the sector, reports on ammunition consumption, losses of personnel and loss of military equipment... All this wealth looked like a heap of waste paper of the lowest standard.
At that moment, steps were heard at the entrance to the dugout and a man began to descend the steps.
- Sergeich! Sergeich! – called the one coming down.
Andrey made up his mind - he put the documents inside his jacket, threw the case deep under the bunk and responded.
- Come in!
The raincoat opened, and Andrey saw a thin, average-height man in an ordinary field “glass” [1], with a short haircut and a fairly gray beard. The newcomer wore glasses with round frames, and the right lens was cracked across its entire width.
The beard and glasses gave the newcomer a certain resemblance to Anton Chekhov. This association immediately came to Andrey’s mind...
- Hello! Where is Sergeich? – asked the newcomer.
Andrey pointed to the bunk:
- Are you looking for him?
- Exactly! Oh, you bastard, you got drunk again! – The bespectacled man sat down by the bunk and grabbed the canister. - Bitch, this is my last alcohol!
Then he turned to Andrey.
- Who are you exactly?
- Lieutenant Colonel Shevchenko, senior SBU operational group in sector “M”. I came here with the commander, so I decided to find my colleagues...
- Well, you found one. This body is your colleague, - the bespectacled man unceremoniously kicked the lying man in the side. - I gave him my alcohol for safekeeping, because otherwise the local warriors would drink it all at once. And his place is the safest - they won’t bother the special officer, that’s what I thought. You can, of course, give it to the general for safekeeping, but the general also has his retinue. They’d definitely drink it all, - the man who entered jabbered, deftly checking the pulse on the hand of the man lying on the bunk.
- Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. Major Oleg Petrovich Bunkevich, head of the medical service of the 30th brigade, - the doctor’s glasses flashed as he turned his head sharply, - or rather, what was left of it. Help me get your colleague out. I'll put him on an IV. Thank God they brought me some saline solution...
Not at all disdainful of touching the stinking body, the doctor grabbed the man’s armpits and began to pull him off the bunk. Andrey had no choice but to join.
It was easier out in the fresh air. Although the stench coming from his colleague simply turned Andrey inside out. Fortunately, it was not far to the doctors’ tent.
There was no one in the tent. Oleg simply dumped the body of the counterintelligence officer on the first folding bed he came across, threw his legs up and began to take off his camouflage jacket. Andrey stood there completely stunned.
- Uh, Oleg Petrovich, what about his dugout? There's no one there. And he has weapons, documents, maybe something else...
- Oh, never mind, - the doctor waved him off. - Well, who will go into the dugout to see the special officer? I took the alcohol, but nothing else of interest is there. Better help me.
The two of them quickly pulled off the outer clothing from the body. Oleg simply threw the disgustingly stinking lump into the corner of the tent.
- So, now... - he deftly connected the system to the vein on the special officer’s left arm and placed the stand closer to the bed. - That's all. My medical duty is fulfilled. Do you want some tea?
Andrey was simply dumbfounded by everything that had happened and was stuck on the question for some time. Then he nodded affirmatively.
- Yes, let's have some…
Sipping hot tea, Andrey looked at the strange doctor. He didn’t sit still for a second, constantly spinning around, shifting something, checking. His hands were in constant motion and seemed to live their own lives. Catching Andrey’s attentive gaze, the doctor chuckled lightly:
- Don't pay attention... This is hyperactivity. Consequences of constant overexcitation.
- It’s good that you realize this, Doc, - Andrey noted carefully.
- Yes... I understand. And I understand how this will come back to haunt me in a few years. If I live, - the doctor grabbed a cigarette with tweezers and lit it greedily.
- Major, what about my colleague? Will we be able to talk?
- Alas... Comrade Lieutenant Colonel has been drinking heavily for a week now. I don’t count daily use he did before this. For a week he’s been drinking until he loses consciousness. I will take him out for two days. In addition, his nervous system is shaken. It is not known how he will react to leaving the binge.
- Why is his system shaken? – Andrey grinned. - For two weeks?
- Well, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel came under fire on the very first day, and this turned out to be the cause of a serious panic attack for him. I identified two factors in his behavior: repeated traumatic situations and insufficient ability to overcome a crisis, - the medic majestically waved his tweezers with a cigarette clutched in them.
- All this together led to a hurricane-like increase in anxiety. As a result, we have this. Eh, what kind of factual material is there,” Bunkevich jumped off to another topic without any segway. – If my colleagues at the academy knew, they would die of envy! Here, in one rotation you can earn a dozen doctorates in psychiatry and psychophysiology! What material, what facts!
Andrey put down his mug of tea and asked carefully:
- Doc, how are you feeling?
– Oh, come on, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel... I'm not crazy. Although the psyche is subjected to severe stress here. – Oleg turned away and threw the cigarette butt into the empty zinc cartridge box, which served as a trash can.
- You see, I’m actually not a surgeon or even a therapist. I am a trained psychiatrist. I worked as a psychologist in the army. I just served calmly, checked the guards and the new recruits, - the medic continued in a normal voice. - And here today, out of the entire officer corps of the medical battalion of the brigade, I am the only one left. And over the past month I have had a tremendous amount of practice. I had to remember everything I was taught in medical school. That seems to be how it turned out. At least I rescued more than a dozen wounded people. Believe me, - he perked up again, - we even had to carry out the amputation in the field! I did it!
- Doctor, tell me, - Andrey interrupted the doctor. – Are there big losses in the brigade?
- 10-15 percent got killed. There are more wounded. I don’t count contusions, - Bunkevich said calmly. - And in the last few days, mostly people have been killed. There are practically no wounded. Shelling from large calibers produces few wounded. A person is simply torn apart by a blast wave. It is not even necessary to hit any equipment. Have you seen the captain? Well, at the entrance?
- Yeah. It’s a terrible sight,- Andrey shuddered.
- Four days ago. We were riding on an MTLB.[2] The explosion was very close. The MTLB was thrown off the road. Everyone was swept off from the armor. And, you see, he was thrown up. More precisely, a part of him.
- Listen, Oleg, but if enemy artillery hits us just a kilometer away, why isn’t the camp relocated? You are within reach! Why don't you go further?
- That’s right, within reach, - the doctor nodded. - Why don’t we leave... Let’s go, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, I’ll show you something. – Bunkevich put out another cigarette and quickly stood up. - Let's go, let's go, it will be interesting for you...
Leaving the tent, they moved towards a small equipment parking lot, where welding flashes splashed and tools clanged.
Behind the equipment, under a spreading acacia tree, a long tarpaulin was laid out, on which black charred logs lay scattered. Andrey realized that these were not logs only when the doctor sat down by the tarpaulin and calmly explained:
- Four people. Our last two fuel tankers, drivers and accompanying persons: ensign and three soldiers. They just stopped at the gas station, and then it got hit. It was a direct hit. So they burned quickly.
Andrey broke out in a cold sweat, although it was a hot August day. His brain immediately connected the smell of roasted meat with these black “logs”, and his stomach almost turned out.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Andrey could only squeeze out:
– Has it happened long ago?
- Last night. We were about to bury them, but then the team came to take out all the bodies. They will send them home, - Oleg said absolutely calmly. - But what is there to bring back? The boys were baked to a crisp...
Andrey could no longer communicate with such an interlocutor and hastened to say goodbye.
- Don’t be too surprised by the behavior of our people – both soldiers and officers. All 100% of those who left Izvarino were shell-shocked, and more than once. Human brain is a dark, unexplored thing. No one knows how one will behave in the future, - Bunkevich admonished Andrey, shaking his hand goodbye.
At the cars of sector “M” Andrey saw the senior guard Sasha and his fighters.
- What about the commander? Not finished yet?
- No, although it seems like they should be soon, - Sasha responded, looking at the temporary camp of the troops of sector “D”.
- Ivanovich, you are sort of pale. Did you eat something bad? – Sasha asked sympathetically, looking back at Shevchenko.
Andrey swallowed convulsively, holding back the urge to vomit.
He made several deep inhales, driving away the nausea.
- No, I just drank some tea...
He didn't want to go anywhere. Andrey sat down in the Amarok cabin, closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. However, the imagination immediately again drew black the burned bodies and the smell of roasted meat. Fleeing from the onslaught of nausea, he jerked sharply and opened his eyes.
“Fuck, it’s like when you’re drunk... I hope I won’t get dizzy too,” Andrey tried to switch to other thoughts. “It’s natural that they get so drunk here. No psyche can stand it...”
He climbed out of the car heavily and leaned his elbows on the hood. Suddenly he clearly wanted to smoke, although Andrey had never dabbled with this bad habit before.
“I probably want to cover up the smell with smoke,” he thought detachedly. “I wish I could get out of here quickly. Well, to hell with this sector D, and the entire anti-terrorist operation, torture, the “Library”... I’ll return to Kiev and go straight on vacation. Forget this nightmare... I'll go abroad. Sea, cocktails, new impressions...” With these thoughts Andrey brought himself more or less to his senses. The National Guardsmen cast surprised glances at him, not understanding what had happened to him.
- Guys, do you have some water? – Andrey asked them.
- Take it, comrade lieutenant colonel, - the contract sergeant smiled and handed him a bottle of mineral water. - It’s obvious that you’re sick. Was the evening eventful?
- Something like that, - Andrey muttered, touching the neck.
10 minutes later, “Ascetic” and the intelligence chief appeared from behind the commander’s dugouts. Walking next to them was a clearly tired Ukrainian Armed Forces colonel, who was practically no different from the surrounding military men in his shabby uniform, broken shoes and unshaven appearance.
- Tomorrow they promise to supply fuel, and we immediately pull it out of here, - the colonel finished the sentence he started earlier. - We need to have more distance between us and the enemy. I think the location will be determined somewhere near Volnovakha. So look, the border north of Avilo-Uspenka is open. By the way, I advise you to return through Starobeshevo. To the south of us, I think, Russian DRGs[3] are already roaming around.
- Thank you, - Rudnitsky boomed, firmly shaking the colonel’s hand. - We’ll think about how to defend ourselves.
- What is there to think about, - the colonel said wearily. - If even a full-booded regiment comes at you, you’re fucked. You won’t hold out. Before this they will hit you with artillery. You won’t even be able to return fire. And then all that remains is to collect your corpses.
- A curious picture he drew..., - the contract soldier muttered quietly under his breath. Andrey, however, heard and replied:
- So he's right, it seems to me. There’s nothing to fight back with...
Meanwhile, Rudnitsky was already getting into the car. Seeing Andrey, he chuckled:
- What, “Bulat”, met your colleagues? I see you look kind of pale...
- I met him, - Andrey nodded. - We just didn’t manage to communicate.
- How so? - “Ascetic” asked and, without waiting for an answer, turned to the senior guard. - Sasha, did they at least feed you?
- No, Comrade General. There was nothing left in the kitchen. And it's a long time till dinner. They haven’t started cooking yet, - the captain complained and added. - Look, they’re frying a shish kebab themselves. Probably the locals' cow was stolen.
Rudnitsky moved his large nose and agreed:
- Yes, it smells like barbecue. I wouldn’t refuse now... And you, “Bulat”?
Andrey couldn't stand it anymore. He was twisted in half and his stomach spilled all its contents onto the grass near the wheel. Tea and soda, thank God, came out easily...
Having caught his breath and spat, Andrey raised his head to the “Ascetic”, who was looking at him with disgusted interest:
- And you go, Comrade General, take a look at the kebab. There are just four portions - two drivers and two attendants, fuel tanker crews. It was forbidden to bury them. Here they are on a tarpaulin under a tree. The aroma is spreading...
Andrey turned his gaze to Sasha the guard:
- And talk to the local doctor. He will tell you how crispy this kebab is.
The security guards fell silent warily. Andrey silently climbed into the cabin and closed his eyes. After vomiting, he felt better and the thought of the smell of roasted meat no longer made his insides clench.
“Ascetic” grunted something unintelligible and shouted at the frozen guards:
- Well, why did you open your moutha? It's time to go home. Load up! – and added more quietly. - We need to get out of here, God forbid we get hit...
There was silence in the car on the way back. Only closer to Mariupol “Ascetic” pushed Andrey in the side.
- Have you recovered?
- Yes, Comrade General. Sorry. – Shevchenko repented.
- Come on, - Rudnitsky nodded gloomily. – I understand. It’s good that the soldiers didn’t see it. They are young. They still have to live. They shouldn't see this.
- Yes, they will still have to see it. If not today, then tomorrow. Or in a month. We’ll eat our fill here, - the intelligence chief interjected. - Judging by the soldiers’ data, the road towards us is completely open. And there is nothing to stop the Russians.
He was intently studying his notes in a notebook and making notes on a work card, holding it on his lap. Andrey felt a pang of conscience: after all, the information received at the headquarters of sector “D” would clearly be of interest to the Center.
- Comrade General, may I ask Sergei Sanych for some information? I didn’t get the chance to take part in your meeting, but I’ll have to report to Kiev.
- Go ahead, of course. Just tell me, have you met your people or what?
- I did, - Andrey grimaced. - Only my colleague has been unable to stand for several days now. The doctor says he has mental problems. And then there’s the drinking. In short... - Andrey waved his hand resignedly.
Then he continued:
- But I had a substantive conversation with the doctor. By the way, a real psycho. Both by profession and by nature. Like everyone here. According to him, 100% of the personnel are shell-shocked and seriously. Well, he told me about the losses.
- And what? – Sergey became interested.
- The total number of wounded and killed is 25-30 percent. He was the only one left from medical staff.
- Yeah... And the colonel, by the way, the chief of staff of the brigade, told us that they had lost three-quarters of their equipment. And a lot of people have gone missing. Some crossed over to Russia to escape the shelling, some left quietly, and some were buried without a trace.
- Rough, - the driver exhaled and immediately ran into the scout’s shout:
- Watch the steering wheel! You're eavesdropping?. If you blurt out anything back at our place, I’ll rot you! Understood?
– Tes, sir, - he muttered and didn’t voice any more remarks.
They returned to the airfield in the evening. And although the sun was still shining brightly, the day was clearly approaching sunset. Andrey didn’t want to see anyone. However, he had to overcome himself and, throwing off the gear and the assault rifle, go to the intelligence chief. The data from his map, plus the documents that Andrey took from the colleague of Sector D, gave a complete picture of the Ukrainian forces north of Sector M. Andrey was not particularly worried about the stolen documents. It was clear that in the chaos of the hasty retreat of the troops near Volnovakha, no one would remember the special officer’s documents, and first of all he himself. Having come out of the binge, he will most likely attribute the loss to destroyed equipment and be done with it. Because he won’t admit that he lost his documents because he was drunk.
In the evening he locked himself in his room and quietly wrote a report on the results of the trip. When he finished, he drank half a bottle of vodka and went to bed in the hope that he wouldn’t dream of black bodies on a green tarpaulin with a slight smell of barbecue...
[1]“Glass” is a cotton fabric that, after ironing, gives off a glassy sheen due to the presence of synthetic fiber in its composition.
[2] MTLB is a light armored multi-purpose transporter (tractor).
[3] DRG - sabotage and reconnaissance groups.